Page 44 of Dance With Death

Leif carries a large bouquet of flowers that he insisted on buying from the hospital kiosk: carnations and roses in bright pinks and white. Eloise’s spell lingers, and although he’s more conscious this morning, Leif is as pale as the hallway’s walls that lead through the labyrinth towards Holly’s place of medical incarceration.

With so few answers available besides what Rowan told authorities last night, I’m unsurprised to encounter my favorite pair of detectives. They’re waiting beside a nurses’ station manned by a woman with a long brown ponytail, and a man with close-cropped hair. Both nurses carry the air of exhaustion I’ve encountered in all staff here.

Leif immediately tenses, but I assure him he’s safe from interrogation. Leif has an alibi.

I do not.

The younger Detective Harding leans across the desk, turning on his charm to the smiling female nurse as the neatly groomed man coaxes answers from her. Gray-haired Detective Wagner spots us and crosses his arms, sour faced as usual.

Ignoring Wagner, I approach the young male in blue uniform, who’s sitting behind the desk and chewing a pen as he examines files before him.

“Good morning. We are here to visit Holly.” I say, and he glances up, immediately opening his mouth. “No, we are not relatives.”

“Yeah. I can see she’s not related to you.” He shakes his head and looks to the detectives. “Is this who you’re expecting?”

“I am Holly’s best friend,” I announce. “I’m concerned about her welfare. I want to see Holly now.” Rowan nudges me. “Please.”

“Holly’s parents are with her.” My eyes go wide. How had I not considered that Holly’s family would be here? “If the detectives allow, you may visit afterwards.”

I flick a look at Wagner who gives a rare smile and looks to his colleague. Harding shrugs in response and smirks. “We’ll consider allowing you,” says Wagner.

Hmm. Power play. Already.

“We’re waiting for Holly to speak to us,” says Harding.

“Is Holly unwilling?” I ask.

“Unable,” he replies.

“Unconscious,” adds his colleague. I steadfastly refuse to respond. “But alive, fortunately.”

“And are my father’s men here?” I ask, hoping that Mrs. Lorcan doesn’t know and hasn’t told him.

“We’re not allowing Mr. Blackwood or anybody from the academy near until we’ve spoken to Holly. The human authorities need to establish the nature of this attack, if the perpetrators waited for her to leave campus and followed, or if she knew them. Every detail. I will not risk supernatural interference with her body or mind.”

“A sensible decision.” His mouth slackens at our agreeing.

But the question Harding has—who followed Holly from campus—leaves the presumption she was on campus last night. Neither Mrs. Lorcan nor Dorian informed Holly’s parents or the authorities that she was missing. Has Dorian’s certainty that we’d find Holly first, therefore claiming we needn’t worry about telling anybody, backfired on him and the academy?

“Rowan told me the attack looked like an animal, as evidenced by the deceased wolf shifter beside Holly,” I say.

The male nurse’s eyes widen, but they remain on his work. Judging by the detectives’ face, others know little about the attack, and I’ve inadvertently added something to town gossip.

“This way, Ms. Blackwood,” Harding says through gritted teeth, and jerks his head to a spot further along the hallway. “I shall buy you a coffee.”

“No, thank you.”

“I insist.”

“And I insist not.”

“Sure. I’ll have a coffee,” interrupts Rowan and lightly shoves me in the back.

I snap my head around and growl at him, and he mouths do you want them to kick you out?

“And I can visit Holly should I drink this unwanted beverage?” I ask the detectives wearily.

“Once her parents leave,” puts in the nurse.

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